Reconciliation
by isuperserial
Summary: Mark returns to Harvard to reminisce and bumps into someone from his past.  Someone he thought he'd never see again.  Erica Albright.  Reviewing and/or commenting is appreciated, as this is my first story!


Mark walked through through the streets he had known so well in his college days. He reminisced about the parties at the Jewish frat, Alpha Epsilon Pi. Those were the good days, the simple ones. Days when he, Dustin and Wardo were just becoming men. Everything was fresh and new and no one got hurt.

He turned around the bend, under the soft glow of street lamps. Cars rolled by on the long New England road. The buildings here were composed of brick and stone and aged wood, unlike his shiny, pseudo-asian, exotic offices in Palo Alto. He walked until he stumbled a bit over a crumbled bit of the sidewalk. Catching himself, he looked up. It couldn't be, but it was. The Thirsty Scholar.

It was that very pub where this all began. Erica Albright. "Al-_brecht_", he chuckled to himself. And then he sighed because he knew where this began, his wealth, his fame. His brilliant idea. It wasn't with Sean, or Eduardo, or Dustin. It didn't start with Thefacebook or Facemash. And it most certainly didn't start with the Winklevi. It began with Erica Albright.

Mark looked at the inside of the bar. Not many people were there. There were booths with soft glowing orangish lights hanging over them. Faint music could be heard through the glass. Everything in Cambridge looked a little ancient and austere. He looked at his reflection in the glass, the tired lines around his eyes, the dark circles. The boy with the whiteboards and drunken livejournal rants was gone. It was replaced with a man who was an entrepreneurial genius, a visionary, and a leader of one of the most successful internet sites in history.

"Was it worth it?"

The words startled him and he spun around, hoodie flapping in the wind. There she was. Erica. It couldn't be.

"Wh-what?" Mark stammered.

"I heard you were in town. I called…" she began.

"Oh. New cell phone… did you know you can use Facebook on cell phones now? It's going to be the new platform for social interactions. All your friends in your pocket." He clumsily attempted to dodge what he new was coming, what he knew he had subconsciously wanted when his body took him here.

"Yeah," she smiled. It was the same kid she had met all those years ago, "yeah I heard. It's strange, bumping into you like this, after all this time. Can we go inside? Grab a table and not eat food, for old times sake?"

"O-of course."

She led the way. Marks eyes studied her for a moment. She still looked incredible. Long brown hair and a charming smile. She had the look of a girl who spent so much time reading that she didn't know how beautiful she was. But they were both older… his eyes flicked to her hand. No ring. Why did he do that? This was over years ago.

He followed her inside. "Bobby still work here?" He joked.

She laughed and it sounded like a song. "Shut up!" she gave him a playful shove.

They took their seats at an old oak table. The bar was dead tonight, just a few people drinking and eating food. The sound of their chairs scraping was easily audible over the sound of Ball and Biscuit by The White Stripes playing over the speakers. A blonde girl in a BU sweatshirt was reading in the corner.

"So how's the old video game going?" she inquired playfully.

"Well. Google and Skype are trying to get in on our game, but they'll be hard pressed. I'm not Tom Anderson after all."

"Who?"

"Tom Anderson. Founded the webpage Myspace." he replied.

"Ah," she said. There was a brief pause, only broken by laughter at another table. Hesitantly, she began, "so can we talk about… all those years ago?"

"What is there to say," he replied, "you broke up with me."

There was a moment of silence. A waiter walks up to the table and asks if they need anything. Erica orders them two Tuttles. Mark immediately starts scraping the label off of the green bottle.

"You remembered my drink."

"You'd be surprised what a girl from BU can remember," she winks.

"A lot, apparently."

"Ever make it into a Finals…"

"Final," he interjected.

"…Final club."

"No." he said, shifting his drink around on the table. "I left before they were able to accept me."

"Would they have accepted you?" she inquired.

"Forgive me if I sound pretentious, but I'm worth billions now," he said.

"Don't worry," she said, "I thought you said the ability to make money doesn't impress anyone around here."

"I'm not really concerned with any of that anymore," replied Mark.

"What are you concerned with?"

"The present."

"Do you ever think if we might have turned out differently?" Erica asked, brown eyes directed at her glass.

Mark began folding his napkin. Creasing. And creasing again.

"I suppose. I mean, when we left it was bad. I attempted to reconcile and you rejected it. Who rejects reconciliation?" he said, tilting his chair back.

"A girl who makes mistakes. Like we all do." she said.

"Perhaps."

"You friended me. Didn't you?"

"I did, just last summer."

"Why?" she asked.

"I don't know. I… I don't know." he replied.

"Would you like to find out?" Erica asked, blushing a bit and tucking an errant lock of hair behind her ear.

"I… sorry what?"

"Kiss me, Mark."

"I'm not sure if that's such a good idea," he replied, "I have a meeting in the morning. Everyone will be there." He stood up from his chair, knocking over his empty beer bottle. "Peter Thiel, Dustin Moskovitz…"

"Mark. Wait." she said.

He paused, looking at the girl he had cared about so much back then. Life was so simple then. Life was so complicated now. Could he even go back to that?

"Mark, if you walk out that door right now, that's it. You won't hear from me again. I'll be gone for good." Erica said.

"So what am I supposed to do, forget like the past few years haven't even happened?" Mark said in frustration. He rubbed his temple with a shaking hand. "Life is different now. People rely on me."

"I relied on you."

"I know."

Erica stood up. "Fine, but at the very least walk me home. I live in apartment just off of Massachusetts Avenue."

They got up to leave, Mark threw some money on the table.

The sun had totally disappeared over the horizon now, the air was cold enough that Mark and Erica's breath was visible. They turned the corner and snow began to fall.

"It's cold." said Erica, looking at Mark as he stared down the street, stalwart.

Mark said nothing, but pulled her close and put his arm around her shoulder. She laid her head on his shoulder as they disappeared into the distance.


End file.
